


You Have Been in Bed For a Grand Total of Thirty-Six Minutes

by QueenWuppy



Series: Pain [2]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Chronic Pain, Eating Disorder (Not actually ED - just underweight), Gen, pain due to unwanted body modification, underweight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9637328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWuppy/pseuds/QueenWuppy
Summary: His knees only hurt a little bit, like this, too, which is nice."J, I have more spare pillows somewhere around here, don't I?"Movement hurts. Actually, existing at all seems to hurt. Movement just takes even more effort than existing does, especially if you're in pain.





	

He rolls carefully over. It stretches his chest, but very minimally now that he knows how to control the rolls to prevent most of the excess pain.

Rolling over had, unsurprisingly, not actually changed his pain levels. It had just changed the pressure from his left to his right. It'd help for a minute or so, and he sighs before opening his eyes. He looks at the blackout curtains. It had to have been at least a few hours since Pepper had forced him to bed.

"J? 'sa time?" he mumbles.

"It is ten forty-three pm, sir. You have been in bed for a grand total of thirty-six minutes."

He groans, and rolls onto his back. Even if this position made his chest ache more, the pain was less sharp. He could feel it in both his hips, though, which was a disadvantage from on his side, where one of his hips had hurt significantly, and the other far less so. His knees only hurt a little bit, like this, too, which was nice.

"J, I have more spare pillows somewhere around here, don't I?"

"Indeed, sir, but they are in the spare rooms you had made up, on floors sixty-eight through seventy-two."

He groans again. He'd have to get up, because he was not going to get Pepper or Rhodey to help him get comfortable in his own fucking bed. Carefully, so as not to twist his chest, he peels himself upright, and from there climbs out of his bed. He's wearing soft flannel pajamas, and the soft cold glow of his reactor through them is enough to see his slippers on the floor.

He slips his cold feet into them, and before he puts any weight on them, it's actually comfortable, even with the blood rushing to his feet. As he stands, however, it becomes sore. His heels feel fractured, and the balls of his feet just ache.

"Are you alright, sir?" JARVIS asks. His voice sounds worried.

"I'm fine, J, just fine…" he replies.

The silence JARVIS projects is disapproving and he takes his slow steps to his bedroom door.

 _I'm just walking, why is this so hard?_ He thinks. _This is so much more than I thought it would be._

There are about another twenty hard steps to his elevator.

"Sir, are you sure you shouldn't get the assistance of either Miss Potts or Colonel Rhodes?"

"I'm FINE, Jarvis."

"You do not look fine, sir."

He leans against the elevator wall – _he made it, thank god_ – and glares up at the camera in the corner.

"Thanks, J," he says.

He puts his eyes on the number pad. "Sixty-eight. Okay." He puts his hand over the six, feels the braille beneath his finger-tips. "Six," he presses the buttons. "Eight." The number appears on the elevator's digital window.

He almost gets a fright when the elevator starts moving.  It was gentler than usual, though, and he knows that Jarvis is being kind. The _ding_ that indicates he has arrived on the floor is quiet. He's here for some pillows. Okay. "J? are the pillows in the master bedroom?"

"Yes, sir."

He walks almost evenly forward, but he keeps his hand against the wall to steady himself. His other hand holds onto whatever furniture it can.

"Sir, the master bedroom is through the next door, not that one."

Tony looks at the low couch next to him. He knows if he sat down he'd probably not get back up for a long while.

"Great," Tony says resentfully.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The pain isn't important, he can ignore it. He puts more weight on his hands for a few seconds to give his feet a break.

When he opens his eyes, it's deliberate. He can do this. He sets himself down, and strides forward. Nearly there. Nearly there, and he's opening the right door this time, and there's the pillows he wants. Three. That’s good. That'll be enough, he won't have to make another trip.

His steps are quick to the headboard, and he grabs it with both hands, and his knees aren't doing great, but that's alright. He's halfway through this excursion, he can do this. It's not hard,  _It is hard, it just shouldn't be, anyone else would find it easy, they'd be done by now, it's taking him too long_ It's not hard.

He breathes in deeply again, using his anger to energize himself, stands up straight and says, "I can do this. I am doing this."

He releases the headboard and tucks a triangular pillow under his left arm, and grabs the two remaining pillows in his hands.

 _Well, at least they'll be soft to land on if he falls_ , he thinks, frustrated.

He takes the six steps it takes to the door, and he doesn't fall. There's another eleven to the elevator. He doesn't fall. (He nearly does, but he doesn't. He doesn't. He's okay.) Two more, and he's inside the elevator, leaning against the wall, his face on the wall.

He shudders, his shoulders shaking, which pulls at his chest and it hurts, but he hasn't fallen yet.

He's okay.

JARVIS doesn't say anything further. The doors close, and the floor starts rising.

His eyes feel puffy, and his throat feels dry. He can taste salt on his lips, and his nose feels gross. He raises the pillow in his right hand and wipes his face against it. It comes away damp.

He breathes in. It's not a breath, it's a sob. And another. And another. He can't help it. He turns, and his back falls against the wall. It's enough of a jolt through his body that it strikes a yelp of pain through his crying. He slides down the wall. It _hurts._ His sobs rack through his body, and that shakes his mechanical heart and his hollowed lungs. He puts a pillow on the floor, and manoeuvres himself onto it. _He can't get up, he may as well get comfortable._ He sets another between his hard spine and the harder metal wall, and _he can't get up_ he clings to the last with both arms. It's kind of in his lap, and it's slightly too big to fit there, especially since he has his knees bent upwards like he is curling into a ball. He _aches_. And he _can't get up._ It's quiet, but for his gasping breaths. It's dark, too, JARVIS never turned on the lights, so everything is shaded in his pale icy blue.

The elevator door opens, and he hears the light padding of socks on metal. "Tony? Oh my god, Tony,"

Light ginger hair falls into his view. He can smell Pepper's conditioner. It's green apple. She kneels beside him, and reaches out, and grasps his hands gently. It's good, because she is not stopping him from clinging to his pillow. His arms are still wrapped around it. He just has his hands in hers, instead of tightly clenched in the down.

JARVIS must be keeping the door open, because another set of footsteps can be heard getting closer. This time he can see the yellow ducklings on the socks, and the dark skin of Rhodey's legs as he steps into the elevator.

Rhodey doesn't say anything, he just leans against the wall next to him, and then sits down. The man ducks his head to meet his eyes, and he holds out a hand.

He lets go of one of Pepper's and reaches out. Rhodey closes his hand around his own, and pulls it gently towards his chest. He lets him.

"I'm okay," he whispers out. It won't come any stronger. His cheeks are wet, and the spot of pillow next to his face is soaked.

"You're not okay, Tones, but we're here. We're not leaving you."

He manages a nod. He breathes in. He breathes out. His next breath is a sob.

"It _hurts_ ," he says.

Rhodey's grip on his hand gets tighter, and Pepper's thumb runs over his other hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a really hard time coming up with a title. This one is literally just an interesting line from the story. My second option would have been Movement, but I don't think it really fits very well.
> 
> This story is based on my own experiences, as well as that of close family, in dealing with both chronic pain and being underweight. If you've not been there, it's, frankly, a fucking shitty place. When you're underweight, you are never comfortable. It just doesn't happen. Every single joint in your body hurts, most strongly in your knees, hips, and ankles. There is not enough padding anywhere, so everything feels too sharp, and you get cold very easily and very quickly, often to the point that that hurts, as well. Chronic pain, is just, well, chronic. What can I say? It aches. 
> 
> I also think that most people gloss over the pain Tony's arc reactor would give him. Seriously? It's a large metal thing in a space that it supposed to flex and bend. It's replacing the upper part of his sternum, which is a bone, and bones flex? Like? Tony shouldn't be able to twist from side to side without pain? That'd mean squishy bits up against metal, guys. bending his back at all, which usually results in one's ribcage flexing, WOULDN'T WORK with Tony because part of his ribcage is now FUCKING LITERALLY METAL. WTF. Also, it's very deep into his chest. Painful? Yes, very.


End file.
